12 Plaza was beIng used by a small man who was rinsing out several pieces of linen. \Ve had forgotten for the mo- ment that it was Monday. Barbarians W E know a philanthropic gentle- man who went the other day to the Trade Office of the British Consulate to inquire what duties, if any, were levied against books shipped to Palestine. They weren't quite certain and asked him to wait a minute while they looked it up. An English- man short! y came out of an inner office. "N 0," he said, "I don't think there are any tariffs on books in any British coun- tries. It would-ah-be considered a sort of barbarism." Our man thanked him and was leaving when the Englishman added one bit more of in- formation: "The lrish Free State has a duty on books." Floral Gaffe A STO UT matron in a foulard dress was wandering through the Frick museum the other afternoon, looking at things without much en- thusiasm. She didn't betray any real interest until she got to the dining-room, where a bowl of flowers was displayed on the table. She sought out an at- tendant, pointed to the bowl, and said with indignation, "Don't you know that the Garden Club of America has con- demned the use of asparagus fern with ?" roses. Eternal Road AS far as you and your friends are concerned, "Tobacco Road" is probably pretty ancient history, but it's still plugging away at the Forrest The- atre, patronized, at a $1.65 top, by whatever kind of audience it is that waits until the third year of a play to . (I ' , see It. t s not uncommon now, we re told, to see box lunches being consumed in the orchestra. ) The play had its thousandth performance last March; last week, no tardier than we usually are with such chores, we sought out one of the producers, Sam Grisman, and got the whole story of his little gold mine. Mr. Grisman, a round, happy, wealthy gent, received us in his nice cork-lined offices in the Paramount Building and reeled off impressive statistics: "Tobacco Road" has been grossing eight thousand dollars a week, almost from its very opening; the weekly royalties of Erskine ,.. , . * Caldwell, who wrote the novel, and Jack Kirkland, who did the dramatiza- tion, are now averaging fifteen hun- dred apiece; and Mr. Grisman expects that before' his play finally closes it will gross three million dollars, counting in the take of the two road companies. i\.s you have undoubtedly heard, its run has been equalled by only two plays- "Lightnin'" (1,291 performances) and "Abie's Irish Rose" (2,532). "Tobacco Road" will overtake "Lightnin'" next December 1 Oth ; there's no doubt in anybody's mind that it will last that long. To catch "Abie," it would have to run through December, 1939, God forbid. About 1,090,000 people have seen the play so far. The millionth ticket was sold on March 11 th, and don't think that Mr. Grisman was unprepared. He waited that evening in the box office, with a box of cigars in one hand and a bunch of American Beauties in the other. Millionth patron turned out to be a Miss Lillian Bernstein of Brooklyn, nineteen years old, an art student. Mr. Grisman popped out, waved away :Miss Bernstein's $1.65, presented her with the roses, and told her she was to be the guest of the management. "All right," said Miss Bernstein. If she had been escorted, her escort would have received the cigars; as it was, Mr. Grisman smoked them. At the thousandth per- formance, on March 24th, every mem- ber of the audience received a souvenir cigarette-lighter, whether he wanted it or not. The cast had a big party back- stage. Jim Barton, who is an old bur- lesque hoofer, did a song-and-dance in his J eeter Lester getup. Of the twenty-odd cities that have tried to forbid the showing of "Tobacco Road "-Boston, St. Paul, Chicago, Utica, Tulsa, Albany, Albuquerque, etc. -only St. Paul has succeeded. That was because there is a statute allowing the city the right to refuse a theatre licence without giving a rea- son or defending its action in court. In all the other cases Mr. Grisman rushed to the scene by airplane, hired coun- sel, and proved that "T obac- co Road" was a social document and not smut. He has spent $ 7 5,000 so far for planes and lawyers, and got it all back in extended engagements. The local cast is bearing up nicely. No rehearsals are called any more, though it's usual during an ordinarily exten- sive run. No callboy is needed to warn the actors of their entrances; they enter in a trance. The perishable props and MAY I , 193' scenery-Spanish moss, automobile fen- ders, boulders, and the like-have been replaced several times, but the cast goes right on. Barton, who followed Henry Hull in the rôle of J eeter, is back again, after the intervening J eeter of James Bell, and seven others of the original cast are still at it. Five of them haven't missed a performance. Sam Byrd, who plays Dude Lester, has his private trag- edy because of the long run of the play. When it went into rehearsal, he swore off drinking for the duration of the run. He's stuck to it, but he's aw- fully, awfully sore. In LYse A NOMADIC New York couple landed in Pittsburgh late one night and went to the Schenley Hotel, where they requested a room with a double bed. The manager said he was sorry, but they'd have to take twin beds. All the double beds were occupied. "You see," he said, "the St. Louis baseball cluh is staying here." TT ery First W HEN the Independent Subway System opened, on September 10th, 1932, the first passenger through the turnstiles of the Forty-second Street station was a young man named Omero C. Catano \Vhile we, a wist- ful member of the Old Guard, were making the last trolley trip down Mad- ison Avenue two winters ago, Mr. Catan was following us on the first hus. It now turns out that he has been among the first passengers on almost all the new bus lines: Broad way, Madi- son, Lexington, Eighth, Ninth, and the crosstown lines at Fourteenth, Twenty- third, and Thirty-fourth Streets. He was on hand when Mayor LaGuardia broke ground for the Sixth Avenue Sub- way, too. He and a friend were the first to pay their way in to Riis Park, and he was one of the first to ride on the \Vest Side Elevated Highway. He rode on the new Brooklyn branch of the Independent System the first night it opened. He is on hand for all sorts of public ceremonies, cuttings of ribbons, breakings of ground, openings of bridges, arrivals of celebrities, dock- ings of liners, openings of restaurants and stores, and whatnot. It's a hobby with him, if not a mania. Furthermore, as Mr. Catan points out, "It's the only chance one has to see the city officials." Mr. Catan is twenty-five, slight,